


You're On

by lord_is_it_mine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Cheerleader Dean, Dean in Panties, Explicit Sexual Content, Football Player Castiel, Horny Teenagers, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Porn, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lord_is_it_mine/pseuds/lord_is_it_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean shifts his eyes around in the dim light, trying to see (without being seen) if the football team has lined up behind them yet. He and the rest of the cheer squad are waiting at the mouth of the tunnel, just about ready to run out and get this thing started (or over with, definitely over with). And while Dean is absolutely dreading being seen in his current state by literally thousands of people, it’s the reaction of a certain defensive lineman that really scares him (especially since this whole thing is basically that asshole’s fault). And also Jo’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're On

**Author's Note:**

> Well, after what has to be weeks and weeks of forgetting (and procrastinating) it's finally done. It's longer than I intended but that happens to me constantly when it comes to these things. This one goes out to tumblr user castielnovak for opening my eyes to this amazing au with her amazing art. Also assbuttsinlove, who is basically the reason I ever attempted writing destiel porn in the first place. Thanks ladies!

“I cannot _believe_ I'm doing this.”

“You lost the bet, Dean-o, _fair_ and _square_.” Jo grins devilishly, the same way she did right before this whole fiasco started. At the time, she looked quite innocent, much like she does now- a sweet smile on her pretty face and her blonde hair pulled back (it might as well be in pigtails she’s so damn precious)- but no. She’s evil.

“And rules are rules, so now you have to pay up,” Anna reminds him, somehow managing to not laugh like the other girls are. Dean should be making a point about how she’s squad captain and needs to discourage this kind of behaviour, but right now his face is as red as her hair, so he really can’t say shit.

Dean shifts his eyes around in the dim light, trying to see (without being seen) if the football team has lined up behind them yet. He and the rest of the cheer squad are waiting at the mouth of the tunnel, just about ready to run out and get this thing started (or over with, definitely over with). And while Dean is absolutely dreading being seen in his current state by literally thousands of people, it’s the reaction of a certain defensive lineman that really scares him (especially since this whole thing is basically that asshole’s fault). ~~And also Jo’s.~~

* * *

~~~~It was last week after the game, in which their team, the Angels, had essentially beat the hell out of whoever they were playing (the technical terms were always a bit unimportant to Dean). As was customary, both the players and cheerleaders found themselves in the Roadhouse, a tavern style place that catered to high school students on game nights.

(There’s no beer, but it’s always been a cool place to go. Jo’s Mom Ellen owns the place, and Jo herself works there (something she constantly bemoans). “Why pay other people a tonna money when you got family who’ll do it for cheap?” Ellen once said. “Why indeed?” Grumbled Jo.)

For some reason, they ended up across the room from the football team. They always did, Dean realised, which was weird. But not that weird, given that the two teams didn’t actually interact as much as one would guess. It also gave Dean a clear view of where every single one of them was. One in particular who currently had all of his attention.

“Dean... _DEAN_!”

“WHAT!?” He exclaimed, finally looking at Jo, who was shaking her head impatiently. “ _What_?”

“You are pathetic.” Jo scoffed. “Either order your damn drink, or grow a pair and go talk to the guy.” She threw a glance over her shoulder to where the team was now yelling about how much ass they’d whooped. Castiel Novak, defensive end, sat with his back to the cheerleaders, leaning over what Dean knew without a doubt was a cheeseburger and fries. Guy never ordered anything different.

“Just gimme a coke,” Dean muttered to Jo, who pouted dramatically.

“Aw, I thought for sure tonight was gonna be the night. You’ve been makin’ eyes at the back of his head for weeks now; I figured you two had finally gotten friendly enough to warrant an actual _conversation_.”

“Yeah, but he’s never actually _talked_ to Cas before,” Rachel teased from down the table. “What would he _say_?!”

“It’s not like talking to him will do any good.” Anna rolled her eyes a little. “God knows _you’ve_ tried it enough times,” she pointed out. Rachel huffed dejectedly.

“I’ve talked to him before,” Dean insisted.

“Oh yeah? Name _one_ time,” Jo challenged.

“Well there was-”

“ _Other_ than when you asked him for a pencil in calculus last week,” Anna interrupted.

“I-” Dean frowned. “Son of a bitch.”

“aaaaaaand _there_ you have it.” Jo nodded triumphantly. “One kiddie sized coke coming up.” She leaned in and giggled: “Can I get you some sweet Cas with that?”

“Seriously guys, cut it out,” Dean groused when everyone had stopped laughing. “I don’t care about some stupid jock. I don’t care. _At all_.”

“Fine. So I suppose you won’t mind a little wager.” Jo grinned innocently.

“Bring it.”

“If you can go the rest of the night without so much as glancing anywhere in Cas’s direction,” she bit her lip in thought. “Anna and I will kiss for thirty seconds.”

“Fifteen,” Anna corrected, without even looking up from her food. “I will be part of this for no longer than fifteen seconds.”

“Fine, so fifteen. But if you fail, Dean...” there was a long pause, punctuated by a roar of laughter from across the room, no doubt cause by some unrelated conversation. Dean struggled not to look over, wondering of Cas was laughing, if he was doing that thing where he dipped his chin and closed his eyes, almost like he was embarrassed to be laughing, but more like he was amused by something deeper than the joke (okay, so Dean had been staring at more than the back of his head).

“It’s perfect!” Someone at their table shouted.

“What?”

“Were you not listening?” Jo sighed again. “If you even breathe anywhere near Cas for the rest of the night, you have to wear a skirt to next week’s game.”

“Oh, Oh!” A girl named Rhonda Hurley piped up. She whispered something to the girl next to her, who whispered it to Rachel who looked rather disgusted but whispered it to the next girl and so on and so forth until Jo whispered it to Anna.

“Well. That could be... fun,” She conceded.

“What?” Dean took one look at Jo’s smile and narrowed his eyes. “What.”

Anna leaned over and whispered it to him. He could feel his eyes practically leap out of his skull.

“No. _FUCK_ no. That’s just. No.”

“Twenty-five seconds,” Anna offered.

“Take the bet, Winchester.” Jo stared him down tauntingly.

“ _You’re on_.” Dean shook her head. Now get me my god damn coke.”

* * *

Dean was winning, right up until he lost.

He didn’t even really care about Jo kissing Anna (he knew the only reason Jo suggested it was because she’d been looking for an excuse to kiss Anna for a month now or some shit). No. He just wanted to be right, and to get the satisfaction of seeing that precious little grin wiped right off of Jo’s precious little face.

It was stupid, the way it happened, because he really was beginning to forget that Cas was even in the building. Well, not really, but the overwhelming urge to find him every time there was a raised voice from his table had dulled right down to just a small pull on the inside of his head whenever he heard what he thought could be Cas’s unusually gravelly voice. Eventually it was late enough for people to start leaving, and then Dean’s phone rang. Caller ID said it was Sam. He thanked god for the distraction and answered it right away.

“Heyah Sammy.”

“Dean, I’m not twelve anymore. It’s Sam.”

“Dude, you’re like, fourteen. What’s the difference?”

There was a nearly audible face palm from the other end of the line.

“Whatever man. Mom wants to know when you’ll be home.”

“Pssh, I dunno, what time is it?” He turned to check the clock but saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye- from where the rest of the football team had gotten up and was walking towards the door. He ducked his head and answered,

“Yeah, I’ll be home in five. Ten minutes tops.”

“See ya,” Sam replied, and the call ended.

“I’m leaving," Dean announced and Jo, who was now off duty and drinking the mother of all milkshakes, shook her head.

“Uh, no you’re not.”

“Uh, yeah I am.”

“Uh, _no_ , you’re _not._ ” She looked sideways at the door.

“Uh, _yeah_ , I _am_.” Dean jumped up, grabbed his jacket off of the back of his chair and, eyes glued to the floor, walked straight into someone.

“Whoa! Sorry.” He looked up and- _shit_.

"No, it’s fine. _Dean_ , right?” Cas asked.

“Um, yeah,” Dean managed.

“Cas,” Cas introduced himself, something like a friendly smile on his lips. Standing this close to the guy, Dean could see how chapped they looked, and how blue his eyes were, _god_ -

“Cas. Well, see you around I guess.” Dean nodded and, trying not to appear too obvious, bolted outside to the Impala. Shit, shit, shit. _Shit_.

He started the engine and was about to haul ass, but Jo caught up, still drinking her milkshake, which, with how loud she was laughing, he was surprised wasn’t coming out of her nose.

“Dude. DUDE. _DUUUUDE,_ " she guffawed, leaning in the front window. “I win.”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huuuhhh.”

“Fine. You win. Skirt. Game. Next week.”

“aaaaaand...”

“NO,” he snapped, pulling away.

“See you Monday, _DEANNA_!” He pretended not to hear Jo call after him. 

* * *

And now here he is. A week later. In a short green skirt just like the girls wear. And, he can scarcely believe it, a pair of panties. Yes. That was Rhonda’s bright idea, the one that, according to Anna “could be fun”. Oh yeah. It’s fun alright. Like ‘sinking the Titanic’ fun. ‘World War Two’ fun. ‘ _Black plague_ ’ fun. The ‘fun’ in question is pink and satiny and, while not nearly as uncomfortable as he first suspected, has him squirming every chance he gets. He has never been so anxious about anything in his life, and hopes desperately that people will look at the flyers and not at his bow legs. Or what he’s wearing.

“Feeling a little self-conscious?” Rachel prods. She’s president of the ‘let’s humiliate Dean Winchester’ club. It’s like she knows something he doesn’t.

“No. I’m perfectly fine. What do you think?” He growls. She laughs and walks away.

“Ignore her,” Anna suggests. “She’s just jealous.”

“Oh, sure, that’s it, she’s jea- wait. She’s _what_ now?”

“She has a massive thing for Cas and knows he’ll never like her back.” The ‘ _obviously’_ is implied.

“Yeah, okay but what does that have to do with _me_?”

“Not many people know this, but Cas and I are kind of related. My step-dad is his uncle. A bunch of us were at my house one time last year and Cas was over. Rachel of course was anything but inconspicuous, and Cas, being who he is, eventually turned her down flat. Said there was someone else.”

“’Course, he’s never been known to date _anybody_ really. Which is how the rumor started that he was gay,” Jo added. Dean remembers that. It’s one of the first things he ever heard about Cas. The rumor was never malicious- no one really cared one way or the other- Cas had only ever been known as a generally nice guy who was incredibly loyal to the people he cared about. Although whoever started it (and at this point it looks like Rachel might have) must’ve intended to hurt his reputation.

“That rumor isn’t _entirely_ untrue.” Anna shrugs.

“And now that _you’re_ so blatantly smitten,” Jo chuckles, “Rachel’s convinced that the _someone else_ Cas was talking about... is _you_.”

“ _What?_ ” Dean hears himself hiss.

“Which isn’t _entirely_ false,” Anna professed nonchalantly.

“ _What?_ ” This time it’s both Dean and Jo who are shocked.

“Cas- he- what?” Dean stutters. “Were you ever gonna tell me this?”

“Were you ever gonna tell _ME_ this!?” Jo shrieks. “That’s the best gossip _ever_!”

“This is exactly why I was never going to say _anything_ , to _either_ of you,” Anna mutters under her breath. “It wasn’t really my secret to share. I only know because I heard Cas talking about Dean to my step-dad last thanksgiving.”

“He _talks_ about me?” Dean’s stomach is suddenly feeling kind of weird, but that could just be his *ahem* undergarments, cutting off circulation.

“All he said was that there was this guy he liked, and my dad asked if the guy was on the football team, and Cas said no, but that he was one of the cheerleaders. And you’re the only male cheerleader.” Anna throws her hands up in surrender. “That’s everything I know, Jeez.”

“You say this like it’s no big deal.” Jo sounds exasperated.

“I didn’t really think it was.”

“Oh my _god_.” Dean feels like he’s a school girl, like this is the fifth grade and the boy he has a crush on has a crush on him too. Which is essentially the gist of it. “Oh my God.” He looks at Jo, whose face is a neon sign of the same thought.

“Guys, time to go,” Anna says suddenly, and then they hear the cheering crowd.

And that’s when Dean remembers that he is a _male_ cheerleader in his senior year of high school about to run out onto center field in a skirt and pink panties in front of not only the whole school but half the town _and_ the guy he likes (likes way too much, by the way). And his stomach goes from feeling weird to wanting to leave his body by way of his throat. But then Jo is grabbing his hand and he doesn’t really have a choice.

* * *

The lights are blinding and the cheers are deafening as they jog out single file, Dean third in line behind Anna and Jo, who go into handsprings beside him when they reach the field. From there the team splits up into two groups, six and six. Jo gives Dean a reassuring look as he helps her onto his shoulders. They hoist up the giant paper sign, green and white and black, the words “Lawrence Angels” painted with big wings on both sides and a halo on top.

“ ** _PLEASE WELCOME YOUR VERY OWN LAAAAAWREEENCE AAAANGEEELS!!_** ” The announcer booms, and the team comes running out, ripping through the poster, and of course the crowd goes wild. Dean tries his best to focus on the fact that he is holding up two or three people and keeps the big cheerleader smile plastered on his face all the way through warm ups and their first set of cheers, where of course he doesn’t kick as high as he normally would, and tries to let the girls do more cartwheels than him. And he’s never been so glad in his entire cheering career that he’s on the bottom of the human pyramid.

It’s less nerve-wracking the longer he’s out there. Especially once the game gets started. The guys are doing what they always do- kick ass. It’s like the crowd is too busy paying attention to the actual game to notice how the one male cheerleader in the bunch is dressed. Dean himself nearly forgets, because wow, Cas really is good at football (also his ass is amazing). By the time they get to half time, he really can’t recall what he was so freaked out about.

“Hey Winchester, nice skirt,” The quarterback, a guy named Gabriel, calls as the team runs off the field. A bunch of cat calls echo him.

“What happened, you lose a bet or something?” He mocks.

“Yeah, actually, that’s about it.” Dean smiles easily from his place on the bench, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He looks over his shoulder to see Cas grab a water bottle, but instead of squirting it into his mouth, he puts. his. lips. on. it. and. starts. _sucking_. And if Dean’s pink satiny panties were uncomfortable before, the image of Cas in tight pants sucking on the end of a bottle isn’t really gonna help. Cas senses someone staring at him and flicks his baby blues over, their eyes meeting for half a second. He doesn’t stop. Dean swallows. Hard. He swears he can see Cas smile.

“Let’s go, we got a show to give these people.” Jo slaps him on the back. Dean tears his eyes away from Cas and follows. But of course it’s not that simple, because his shirt rides up and everyone gets a view of the pink waistband underneath his skirt.

“Damn!” Gabriel hollers. “Are you guys seein’ this?” There’s an eruption of laughter and stupid comments that really aren’t worth repeating.

Dean goes fire engine red, stares at nothing but his toes, but doesn’t falter for a second. Anna glares and Jo flips Gabriel off, muttering an apology to Dean. He goes all out during the half time routine, not missing a beat. He doesn’t even notice that Cas’s eyes are fixed on him the entire time.

* * *

It’s finally over. Thank God it’s finally over.

The Angels won of course. There aren’t many nights when they don’t. When the teams disappear off the field and the stands begin to empty, Dean slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and hears someone calling for him.

“Dean. Dean! There you are.” Sam jogs over, and Dean rolls his eyes. The kid is painted green, black and white, and he also looks like he’s about to piss himself laughing.

“Heyah _Sammy_.” He grins, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“What the hell, man? What’s with the getup?” Sam wheezes.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Dean musses his brother’s hair, hearing him complain- ‘you messed it up, thanks a lot’ but he’s not really paying attention. It’s right then that he notices Cas standing outside the cinderblock buildings that serve as dressing rooms. He’s leaning, back against the wall, wearing a zipped up hoodie over a team t-shirt and tight jeans, his own duffel bag at his feet. Staring.

“See ya little brother,” Dean says absentmindedly.

“Dude, I need a ride.”

“I can’t take you, I’m goin’ out. Call mom or something,” Dean yells over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop and listen to whatever Sam says after that. But then Jo pops up, stopping him in his tracks.

“You comin’ to the Roadhouse?”

“Yeah, I gotta change first, I’ll meet you there,” he answers, not taking his eyes off Cas. Jo looks at him strangely, then to Cas, then back.

“oooooh. _Okay_.” She winks. “See ya _later_.” And she bounds off.

When he finally gets to Cas, the bleachers are empty around them, and everyone is well on their way to the parking lot. The two of them are out of reach of the field lights, which are about to be turned off, and there’s no one around to see them anyway, Dean thinks. He clears his throat and smiles. Slightly.

“ _Cas_.”

“ _Dean_.”

“Were you waiting for me?” Dean asks coyly. “Cause I’m gonna be a minute- I just gotta change.”

“I _really_ wish you wouldn’t.”

God _damn_ his eyes are the bluest blue Dean’s ever seen.

They move at the exact same second and _collide_ at the exact same instant. As soon as Dean drops his bag and gets his hands anywhere near Cas, he pulls his hair and smashes their mouths together. And Cas’s lips may have looked chapped but _shit_ are they soft. And yeah, he’s kissed a few people in his day, but Dean really can’t remember kissing anyone like Cas. There’s something urgent yet completely dedicated about how his mouth works, firm and controlling but gentle and devoted oh so _giving._

Dean allows himself to be manhandled and backed up to the wall, where he finally lets his hands stray from Cas’s hair to his shoulders, down his arms, his thumbs tracing the taught muscles through his long sleeves until he gets to his elbows, at which point Dean does what he’s been dying to do- he reaches down and grabs Cas’s ass, groping almost desperately and pulling the other’s hips forward to meet his own. He can feel the cinderblocks digging pleasantly into his shoulder blades as Cas goes along with him, shoving his body harder against the wall and letting a groan out into his mouth. Their tongues meet and that’s when things get hot, because Cas is pretty fucking talented. And while Dean is beginning to have trouble thinking straight, something inside him gets jumpy.

"Ca-Cas. Whoa.” He gasps, pushing himself out of the kiss but not the embrace. “What’s happening?”

Cas just squints at him the way Dean has seen him squint at his calculus textbook.

“Jesus, I mean, what are we doing? We’ve barely spoken two words, we barely even know each oth-” he goes to push him farther away but Cas takes his wrists and holds them on the wall on either side of Dean’s head.

“I know more than you think. I know you’re not just in my calculus class but my lit class too- I know you sit at the back of the room but you know the answer to every question. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. You have a younger brother named Sam. You drive a black 1967 Chevy Impala, but it’s not yours, it’s your father’s. You listen to classic rock, you read Vonnegut, and when you’re not cheerleading, you’re the star of the wrestling team.” Cas rattles off this information very matter-of-factly for someone who’s in this kind of situation. Dean just looks at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“How-” his voice comes out shaky.

“You’re not the only one who’s been staring at the back of a head for the last month, Dean Winchester.”

Cas leans in and kisses him again, and this time it’s slow. Dean lets him, waiting a second before kissing back, because he likes the way it feels to just _be kissed_. But after a second or two, the previous intensity returns, and they begin to forget themselves. There’s a lot of tongue, it’s sloppy and harried, and Dean can’t really remember whether it’s him who wrestles Cas’s hoodie off or if it’s Cas himself- he doesn’t think it was him, because he’s pretty sure he hasn’t moved his fingers from where they’re digging into the back of Cas’s neck. But once it’s off, he’s holding onto those sculpted arms for dear life as they start to roll their hips together, Dean nearly being lifted off the ground as each thrust gets harder.

“Do you even know what you’re doing, walking around dressed like that?” Cas huffs, tearing his mouth away from Dean’s just long enough to speak before harshly sucking a hickey into the skin of Dean’s neck. He’s pleased with the long, low moan that rips itself from the cheerleader’s throat, and even more pleased when he hears his own name sighed from his kiss-swollen lips.

“I guess I oughta lose more bets then.” Dean’s voice loses the rest of its steadiness after that, because Cas laughs, but not in a way that is anything other than predatory.

“I thought it was bad enough having to focus on football every week with you strutting around in those shorts you usually wear, but _this_ -” Cas kisses him in between every other word, and his hand reaches in between them, fingering the waistband of Dean’s skirt, and then the panties- “this is just _indecent_.”

And suddenly, all of Cas’s heat- and pressure- is gone. This leaves Dean feeling not only vulnerable, but also on the verge of pain. His dick is straining against the fabric, there’s a sheen of sweat on his skin, and all he can think about is how he never knew he could get this hard. He squeezes his eyes shut, his hips jumping forward out of instinct, looking for friction. Then he hears Cas laugh, but doesn’t feel breath on his face. When he cracks his eyes open, he sees Cas kneeling at his feet and groans.

“Oh _God_ , Cas, _please,_ ” He begs. He never begs.

“Please _what_ , Dean?” Cas whispers.

“Shit- _fuck_ , I dunno, _touch me_ , _please_.”

Cas doesn’t say a word after that. He does however touch Dean. Barely. He brushes his fingers up Dean’s thighs, pushing his skirt up until the satin underneath is exposed. He leans in and nips lightly at Dean’s thighs, licking over every bite mark while occasionally pressing his thumbs against his clothed bulge. Dean’s mouth hangs open, and he finds that his breath is getting increasingly uneven- and when Cas mouths at him teasingly through the fabric, he’s had about enough.

“Ca- _fuck_ , god _damnit_ -”

And then all at once, Cas pulls Dean’s panties down to his ankles, licks a stripe up his dick and deep throats him all in one go, head disappearing under his skirt. Dean’s head falls back, cracking (what under any other circumstances would have been) painfully off the bricks behind him. He lets out a keening whine that rings high in the back of his throat, and he presses his palms to the wall, trying to keep his balance while he goes weak at the knees. Cas’s hands don’t stay idle- they play at the backs of Dean’s legs and wander to his ass, spreading him and teasing him while his mouth does the rest.

Cas pulls off Dean’s dick with a heavy breath, and then without warning, sucks the head back into his hot mouth, just like he did with that water bottle earlier, and _that’s_ what sends Dean over the edge. He barely has time to warn Cas before he comes, with something that’s almost a scream of Cas’s name. He feels Cas swallow around him, and when he stands up, there’s only one streak of white on his bottom lip. There’s also a smirk which Dean is quick to kiss away, tasting himself on Cas’s tongue as the football player opens up.

“Cas, you-” Dean cups the front of the football player’s jeans, his voice completely wrecked- “you need some help with that?” Cas just nods slightly, and before long Dean’s hand is down his pants, and he’s just glad that Dean hasn’t picked _now_ to get his revenge for all of the teasing he’s just been put through. When he comes, it’s hard, and there’s a sudden relief of tension in the air around them. They kiss one more time, and then Cas’s head falls on Dean’s shoulder, his breath starting to cloud in the cool evening air. Dean smiles fondly, carding his fingers through the soft and sweaty mess that is Cas’s hair. As they calm down, he keeps waiting for things to get awkward, but they never do.

“So, I’m thinking we should go out some time,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s collarbone. Dean nods in agreement, making a mental note to thank Jo, Anna and especially Rhonda.

“You’re on.”


End file.
